statement was delivered in a soft voice that sounded better suited to reciting lyrics from love songs.
“Excuse me?”
“If my sources are correct, my sweet lady, you are within months of losing your ancestral home, your title, and your reputation, due to an unfortunate clause in your parents’ will that prevents you from accessing your inheritance.”
She would not let him have the satisfaction of seeing he’d rattled her. “Your manners, unlike your mustache, are deplorable. You must have mistaken me for someone else.” Sources? What sources? Her parents’ will was a private matter, known only to her and the augurs who handled such matters, and they were honor-bound to silence.
He bowed again. “Please believe me, my lady, I have not said these things to embarrass you. I am, in fact, in the happy position to help you reverse your fortunes. For that is, indeed, why you have come to court, is it not?”
That was so very close to being true, it was disconcerting. Do not lie to yourself, she told herself sternly. That is precisely why I came. Self-delusion had been her parents’ flaw, not hers. In that, she and her rider, Raia, were alike. However he knew, the truth was the truth. “Speak on.”
“I am very fond of the Becaran Races. So fond that I have sponsored my own racer and am investing heavily in the fate of several other riders and racers. I believed I had accounted for all variables, but then your rider and racer appeared on the scene . . . and it has thrown a shadow of concern onto all of my careful plans.”
A servant bearing a platter of puffed pastries passed by them. The man declined to take one, but Lady Evara made a show of selecting the perfectly puffed pastry, to buy herself a moment to think.
The man’s story could be the truth. It was plausible. He certainly knew the truth about her own situation, however he obtained it. My dear mother and father, of course, she thought. The augurs who knew the truth would have been discreet, but she had no proof that her parents hadn’t whispered their little inheritance plan into the ear of a “trusted” friend. Her mustached acquaintance had probably begun researching her when Raia and her racer began winning. Bribe the right people, and you could learn anything about anyone. If the leak wasn’t her parents, a servant could have overheard sensitive information and shared it for the right price. Their loyalty would have naturally diminished after she was forced to dismiss them. She tried to hide how much that thought dismayed her. She’d always tried to be kind to them.
She bit into her pastry, and discussed the state of the weather and vague statements about the inconvenience of unrest in the street until the servant was far enough away. When there were no more nearby ears, Lady Evara said, “To the point, then. What are you proposing?”
“If your racer were to come down with an illness, say a permanent illness, I would stand to profit greatly, and I would ensure that you were to profit equally greatly.”
“You want me to poison my own racer?” This man was lacking in subtlety, so she used none. If their positions were reversed, she would have been much more careful in how she led into this request. Maybe begin with a few innocent conversations, feeling her target out before exposing her plan. Amateur, she thought. “Such an action, if detected, could lead to expulsion from the races for life. The race committee frowns on tampering with race results.”
“Expose me, and I will expose the fragility of your finances and the . . . ahem . . . state of your soul,” the man said quickly. “I am in a position to do so. I am Lord Petalo, cousin to Lady Nori of Griault, whose star is on the rise, and my word carries weight.”
Ah, so it was to be blackmail. She was glad she hadn’t retired to her rooms earlier. She wondered if Lord Petalo was motivated by greed, or if it was more sinister—he might not care as much about his chosen kehok’s winning as he did about the emperor-to-be’s kehok’s dying. “I would need to know your definition of ‘profit greatly.’”
Lord Petalo leaned forward and whispered a sum in her ear, making it look as if he were whispering a flirtatious compliment.
She played along, with a twinkling laugh and a loud, “Oh my!”